


Rhapsody of the Depraved

by taithe



Category: Free!
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Comeplay, Double Penetration, Knifeplay, M/M, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Vibrators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taithe/pseuds/taithe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kisumi decides to have a little fun with Makoto's graduation gift. Haru watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhapsody of the Depraved

**Author's Note:**

> Please see tags above for warnings of explicit content.

*******

 

The rope stretched over tense wrists.

“Shhh,” he whispered. His knuckles brushed against the soft curve of Makoto’s cheek, sliding down to fabric stuffed over bruised pink lips. Like this, he wouldn’t be able to speak, but sounds, oh, those cute helpless sounds, he’d be able to catch them all, each hitch and fought back moan, stuck halfway in the back of a throat, as Makoto strained, whether to buck away from pleasure or to embrace it, his body hadn’t decided.

Teeth bit down on a saliva-soaked gag, that one, pretty little word tearing desperately into messy cloth:

 _Oh, please please_ please.

Makoto was a proper man, the perfect son, with a reliable job and a gentle personality. The kind of guy you took home to meet the parents. No one would expect to find him here, lying with legs opened and hanging over a metal bar, knots on his ankles and a vibrator taped on the inside of his thigh.

Kisumi smiled. It was a wicked thing, sharp as the blade sitting not so innocently on the metal table. Makoto, blindfolded, was oblivious, a rabbit trapped in a simple box cage, shivering with fear and anticipation.

He glanced at Haru, who was tied but untouched, still wearing his work clothes. The man had an excellent poker face, but his eyes gave everything away. Despite looking fit to kill, his pupils were dark, blue swept in stormy black waters.

Kisumi’s gaze softened, touched by Haru’s reaction. These two were so close, it didn’t seem right to leave one out.

Turning back to Makoto, whose chest heaved erratically as the vibrator gave a sudden, intense buzz, he let out a playful hum.

“Makoto,” he said in singsong. “Ma-ko-to.”

His fingernails scratched gently down Makoto’s pectorals, tracing the rivulets of sweat that stained tanned skin. How perfect. His mouth ached to wrap around the bulging carotid of Makoto’s throat, to seal tight and suck, feeling that pounding pulse, the rhythm of Makoto’s lust.

Kisumi loved this part of him. The contradiction, the repressed desire mixed with brutal strength, because Makoto was a man who _gave_ , gave to others and pleased others but did not want for himself, did not _know_ how to want, was too afraid to fall off the precipice of it, because then it’d be a point of no return, a point of breaking, and who knew if he’d come back in pieces, or if he’d come back at all.

Haru, the childhood friend, the loyal knight, couldn’t help him here. Sometimes, it was best to let someone go unsaved.

Kisumi circled one of Makoto’s nipples, enjoying the way it hardened and Makoto’s stomach sucked in.

“Beautiful,” he said, because with every hard slap there ought to be a soft touch soothing over reddened skin. “You’re beautiful, Makoto.”

His fingers twisted, causing Makoto’s hips to jerk upwards, precum dripping from his cock. Kisumi used his green tie, wrapped it around in a pretty bow, like some twisted version of a graduation gift, laid out for himself, for Haru, who was sadly unappreciative of Kisumi’s thoughtfulness, preferring to glare holes in back of his head as he made delicate work of Makoto’s flesh.

Kisumi almost laughed.

“Things haven’t changed, ne?” he said, eyes bright. He leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of Makoto’s ear. The trembling calmed down, as he whispered, “You can use it. The safeword. I won’t judge.”

It was true. For all his amusement, he still cared deeply about his friends, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt them unintentionally.

Makoto, with his head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest, remained still.

The rule was: Makoto would open and clench his fist three times. That meant Kisumi had to take the gag off and let him speak, give him a chance to say the one word that would halt everything.

But, with two pairs of eyes on him, Makoto spread open and vulnerable, there was no change. Makoto’s breathing was evening out, the total body flush cooling with the mix of saliva and sweat.

Kisumi, now aware in the silence, the slowed down pace, that his own heart was pounding, stepped to the side, where he could stroke the length of Makoto’s tired arms.

“Good boy,” he murmured. Kisumi kissed the crook of his elbow, while hands curled around the points where hipbones jutted out. The delicate skin surrounding Makoto’s groin, filled with nerve endings, jumped as Kisumi traced small, meaningless patterns, etching closer and closer to Makoto’s hardness.

“Mmmph,” Makoto cried, a trail of fresh saliva dripping down his chin.

“Almost,” Kisumi said. His fingers were just about to touch when he pulled away abruptly, abandoning the sensation Makoto craved and _needed_.

Instead, he took off the blindfold, let Makoto take a good look at himself, wound up like a toy, strings ready to snap, his messy face and shameless body out to display not only to Kisumi, but to Haru as well.

Makoto blinked, dark lashes wet against the lust-hazed green of his eyes. Soon, they’d be even darker, faraway with pleasure as Kisumi intended to make Makoto forget everything: his responsibilities, his worries, his own name.

Kissing Makoto’s temples, tasting the salt of tears, he sighed into soft brown hair.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”

He removed the gag, replaced it with his mouth, licking into the wet, hot heat. Makoto moaned, welcoming, his body going slack, but it wasn’t enough, obviously, not when Makoto was still so clear, so lucid.

“Is this what you like?” Kisumi asked. He swept his hand over Makoto’s nipples once more, this time rough and quick. “To be watched?”

He kissed the corner of Makoto’s mouth.

“To be _fucked?_ ”

Makoto shuddered, his cock twitching as the green tie deepened in color from another spurt of precum.

Kisumi unraveled the top, just enough so the head was visible, and used the fluids to coat his fingers, make them sticky as he let his hand go lower, _lower_ –

The metal bar clanged from the force of Makoto’s legs kicking, the ropes going taut as Kisumi brushed that little ring of muscle.

“Easy,” he said. “It’s okay, Makoto, it’s okay – ”

His finger pressed, resistance giving way to a perfect, _tight_ fit, and he had to suck in a breath, his head nearly going dizzy from thinking, yes, this is what will take all of him, his length and girth, what will fill Makoto and make him _his._

He had the first knuckle in. With another long, deep inhale, he pushed further, knowing the pace was tortuously slow, but that was the point, to stretch Makoto out, not just emotionally, but physically, since it was clear this was… new. He was surprised, given Makoto and Haru’s relationship, but he wouldn’t ask, unless he wanted to be filleted by Haru and strung out on a clothesline.

“P-please…” Makoto’s voice was hoarse, scratched up with want. “Kisumi…”

Haru’s shoulders jerked at the name.

“Please what?” Kisumi could curve his finger, let it reach that _one spot_ , which he knew would make Makoto scream.

But he didn’t.

“ _Please_ ,” Makoto begged. His arms and legs were bound, but his hips weren’t, and he tried his hardest to push down, to feel more, so desperate for _anything_ that he’d attempt to make do with fucking himself on Kisumi’s hand.

“You have to tell me,” Kisumi said. “Please what?”

He withdrew his hand. Makoto was staring at the ceiling, already sounding so wrecked, his breathing whistle-thin, on the knife-edge of sobbing. Perhaps it was only years of practicing restraint, of keeping a smiling face for others, that stopped Makoto from breaking down completely in front of them.

“I…” Makoto swallowed thickly. “I…”

He should have pity. Makoto was so close, while barely being touched, yet because of Kisumi’s careful ministrations was unable to come, stuck on that plateau just before orgasm. But he held Makoto in higher regard than that, to give in to the man’s simple frustration. He knew Makoto could stand it, could reach levels of pleasure he’d never experienced, if only he could accept it, let himself drown in it, let himself _feel_.

“I-it… hurts…” Makoto whimpered. He closed his eyes, the muscles of his shapely thighs tensing. “I… I want…”

“Yes,” Kisumi whispered, urging him on. He peeled away the vibrator, the residue of tape already melted from the heat of Makoto’s overworked skin.

“…!” Makoto’s back arched, his spine making a dramatic C-shape, his nipples brushing against Kisumi’s t-shirt. There was a painful screech, as the metal poles dragged along the floor, pulled by ferocious strength.

“G-give… give it back,” Makoto panted. His eyes were unseeing, not meeting Kisumi’s. He might as well have been talking to the sky. “P-please. _Give it back._ ”

The bullet vibrator thrummed in Kisumi’s palm.

“I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with just a toy though,” Kisumi said. “Isn’t that right, Haru?”

The sound of Haru’s name snapped Makoto back to reality, his thrashing limbs going quiet, no longer cutting themselves on elaborate ropes.

“Haru,” he breathed. He said the name like a prayer, a blessing. “Haru, _please._ ”

Kisumi expected Haru to give in, like he always did, when Makoto asked for anything, for a flower, for a hand, for the world. But this time, Haru looked away, conflicted, his bottom lip caught by teeth.

“You agreed to this,” Haru muttered. _Leave me out of it_ , was the underlying message. What a funny guy. Despite tagging along, insistent on making sure nothing went… awry, Haru was strangely passive, watchful in the corner, as though he understood both Makoto’s feelings and Kisumi’s intentions. Haru was a little scary like that, perceptive to the point of almost mindreading, and it always made Kisumi’s insides go a touch cold to know Haru could see through not only Makoto’s desires but Kisumi’s own brutish, selfish needs.

A soft, low moan brought Kisumi’s wandering mind back to the exquisite sight of Makoto rocking up against an invisible pole, his hips hitting a rhythm that left Kisumi’s throat dry.

“We can compromise,” Kisumi said, ignoring the crack in his words. He slid the vibrator from the top of Makoto’s knee, using feather light taps, as Makoto trembled so hard the metal bar shook. Just as the vibrator reached its destination, the base of Makoto’s swollen cock, he shoved his fingers into Makoto’s mouth, stuffing the sharp cry that tore from Makoto’s very being.

“Mmm.” His eyes were slits now, his spine warm with pleasure as Makoto sucked greedily on his fingers and rutted against the tiny, pink vibrator. “Haru, I’m jealous. Is he always like this in the bedroom?”

The way Makoto’s head bobbed, as though he wanted to be throatfucked by something larger, thicker than Kisumi’s fingers, made his pants uncomfortably tight. Everything about Makoto’s face said he wanted _more_ , more than just the quickness of teasing hands.

Well. He could certainly live up to _those_ expectations.

Kisumi dropped the vibrator, which clattered on the ground with a loud crack, and reached out to the table to grab the blade. It was petite, thin, but sharp enough that moving even a millimeter wrong could result in a cut.

But he wasn’t interested in bloodplay. Giving a warning, he forced Makoto to relax his spine, to straighten out his arms and legs, as Kisumi slowly cut the ropes, one by one. It took a hellish amount of strength and endurance to be tied up without support for one’s core. Now that Makoto was exhausted from fighting against his binds, it’d be easier to control, to dominate him without either of them accidentally injuring the other. Not that Kisumi was a weakling – basketball had its uses too – but he knew Makoto would never forgive himself, never allow himself to be in this state again, if he were to hurt someone in the process.

Like a marionette without its strings, Makoto slumped on the cold tile floor, his naked body stark under bright lights. Kisumi wished they’d discussed videotaping… but memories would have to do. He’d burn them on Makoto’s skin, so that when he left for Tokyo, flat on his back during a late night in the big, lonely city, he could palm himself and remember what it was like to be fucked so hard he’d feel Kisumi’s come against the backs of his teeth.

Kisumi kneeled, petting Makoto’s sweat-damp hair, the hilt of his blade tracing along the curve of a gorgeous jawline. He enjoyed the way Makoto’s throat went tight, as cold metal rubbed over the bump of his Adam’s apple, smoothing out delicate veins and arteries, which, if Kisumi wasn’t careful, could be so easily nicked. Haru, in the corner, was sitting up straighter, his brows furrowed.

Silly Haru. It wasn’t just Makoto Kisumi intended to push to the edge, after all.

The knife traveled over quivering skin, following the dips and curves of Makoto’s abdomen, until it reached the green bow, now absolutely filthy with the musk of need. Kisumi wondered how long it’d take to wash out that smell, whether Makoto would think of him when he wrapped the tie around his neck for his final day of class.

He made quick work of the knot, using the wooden handle of the blade to undo it.

“Lie down,” he instructed. Makoto rested his head gingerly on the floor, dark circles surrounding aching wrists. It pleased him to know Makoto would have to wear long sleeves despite the warming spring weather.

He decided to sit with Makoto’s legs cradled at his sides. Now that Makoto’s cock was free, it glistened at the tip, reminding Kisumi of his favorite ice cream dessert.

“Watch,” he said. Makoto’s gaze fell on him, his eyes going wide, as he realized –

Kisumi licked the head, before taking it in his mouth completely, enjoying the way the smell, the damp heat, the hardness overtook his senses and stretched his mouth full. Makoto was an amazing guy, to hide something like this. He wondered how Haru could fit him in, and glanced at the corner, only to find Haru bracing himself against the wall, knees clamped together as a flush fought its way on an impassive face.

Ah. So Haru liked watching, as much as Makoto enjoyed being watched. What a pair, these two.

Kisumi raised his head with a loud pop, as Makoto’s cock slapped against his stomach, smearing wet on his skin.

“I have an idea,” Kisumi said. “Why don’t we invite Haru to some fun? He looks a little lonely, don’t you think?”

Green eyes darted to the corner almost apologetically, but Haru shook his head, as though to say, _stop worrying, idiot_.

Kisumi stood up, stretching his cramped legs, and grabbed the knife, letting it spin across his fingers like a pen.

“It’s more fun together, right?” He smiled cheerfully while Haru rolled his eyes. For someone still tied up, he sure had attitude. As tempting as it’d be to keep him bound, Kisumi decided to forgive that little rudeness, since Haru was an old friend, and cut away the ropes.

They walked back to Makoto, who stayed motionless, tracking their every move with a mixture of hope and wariness. Kisumi waved at Haru to kneel, which he did begrudgingly, his gaze fixated on the bruises blooming across wrists and ankles.

Rather than let Haru stew, Kisumi brought both of their attentions back to the main event, using his fingers to brush the underside of Makoto’s cock, wringing out a groan as Makoto’s eyes fluttered closed. Feeling the weight of Haru’s stare on him like a loaded gun, he pressed his lips back where his fingers were, kissing foreskin, lapping at the thick vein that went along the upward curve of a marvelously sized dick. Makoto’s hips twitched, his stomach clenching as he tried to restrain himself.

That won’t do.

He dragged the flat of his tongue, until he hit _that_ spot, right where the vein stopped and the head of Makoto’s cock began, that spot that had Makoto’s hips slamming up uncontrollably.

Luckily, Kisumi had no gag reflex. He accepted Makoto’s length, toyed with it, until he could feel Makoto squirming, his voice hitching higher and higher, legs wrapping around Kisumi’s neck, reckless, mindless, unable to make any sounds except for raw, primal pleasure, his thrusts matching the frantic pace of his need, as electricity pooled deep in his groin, sparking _wild –_

Come splashed in Kisumi’s mouth, filling it, coating his tongue and drenching his lips. The thick ropes of it were evidence that Makoto clearly held out, whether out of necessity or the simple lack of _time_ from a hectic life, Kisumi didn’t know. He almost swallowed it, but decided on last minute inspiration to grab Haru’s jaw, turning with a hurried kiss to prevent any seed from spilling.

Haru’s lips opened in surprise, and with that advantage, Kisumi pushed in, letting Makoto’s come warm the inside of Haru’s mouth.

_Taste it. It’s his and mine. Isn’t it delicious?_

He smiled into the kiss as Haru gathered the come in his mouth, his jaw going slack under Kisumi’s grip. His eyes were as wide as Makoto’s now.

“Don’t drink it yet,” Kisumi warned. Makoto’s face was glazed over, skin glowing from post-orgasm, his lips parted as he panted to catch his breath. “I want you to kiss him too. Makoto loves kisses, doesn’t he?”

Almost more than being fucked. Makoto wouldn’t admit it, but he could come from kissing alone – his favorite areas being the inside of his thighs, around his nipples, and the back of his neck. That, plus some generous massages along a spine, could reduce him to putty, easier than a vibrator or a run of the mill blowjob.

So then, the question was, how much Makoto would like kissing, if they added a surprise?

Haru’s lips were shiny as he leaned over to rouse Makoto, in that comforting, almost protective way of his. He cupped one side of his best friend’s face and (with a slight tremor in his fingers, Kisumi noted) pried open Makoto’s mouth a little wider. Without struggling, he accepted, blinking as though waking from a daze.

“H-haru?” His voice was tiny.

“Shhh,” Kisumi said. He touched Makoto’s arms, gently holding them down.

Slowly, Haru opened his mouth, let the come slip down his lips, frothy from the mix of his spit. Makoto jerked at the sensation, shocked, as some caught on his teeth, his chin, the upper part of his chest.

“Don’t be wasteful~” Now that he was confident Makoto wouldn’t thrash, he released his grip. He scooped up the come, enjoying the way it dripped on his palm. While Haru licked at Makoto’s mouth, as though to ask for forgiveness, to make up for the lack of warning, Kisumi positioned himself at his thighs again, having a top rate view.

Makoto was getting hard again, kissing Haru, and Kisumi would take full advantage that. Having him be relaxed was important. Despite his cavalier tendencies around very sharp objects, Kisumi wasn’t stupid.

He used the come to wet Makoto’s entrance, enjoying the trapped moan from above. Haru was getting into it too – tugging at messy brown hair, his hips shifted subtly to rub against Makoto’s side.

Taking the lube from his pocket, he popped the cap and squeezed a liberal amount. It was clear, not tacky like the cheap kind. Maybe he ought to gift the lovebirds a set.

Smiling, he inserted one finger, pushing as muscles tensed around the intrusion. Makoto’s breathing sounded labored, poor boy. He ought to work on his stamina. He was a competitive swimmer, wasn’t he?

Haru, not wanting to let Kisumi get the upper hand ( _hah_ , he fought back a giggle), began playing with Makoto’s nipples.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Kisumi said, lightly as though he was talking about the weather. “Do you want to stop?”

Makoto answered by angling his pelvis, driving Kisumi’s fingers deeper inside him than they’d ever been.

“Mmm. Wild. I like it,” Kisumi laughed. “Don’t let go of this one, Haru. Who knows what sort of strange men would love to get their hands on – ”

“You talk too much,” Haru snapped.

Makoto whined at the lack of motion, the lack of _anything_ that wasn’t pure pleasure.

“Well, neither of you say anything, and that’s _boring_.” Kisumi added another finger, while Makoto bit back a frustrated groan. “Plus, I don’t think he minds.”

Kisumi was at four fingers now, lube slicking down his wrist and Makoto’s ass. He didn’t stop Makoto from fucking himself this time, enjoying the pace, the quickening slap, because it was nice, seeing self-control fray like this, watching Makoto go from polite young man to this _depraved_ boy, desperate boy, wanting to come from a throbbing dick kind of boy.

“Mmm, still not enough? Even though you’ve come once when we haven’t at all,” Kisumi teased.

“ _More_ ,” Makoto whimpered. “Kisumi, Haru, _please._ ”

Haru kissed his neck.

“Be patient,” he murmured. “You’ll hurt yourself otherwise.”

Makoto bucked harder on Kisumi’s fingers, defiant.

“I think he’s ready.” Kisumi’s eyes glittered, an ache of anticipation spiking all the way to the tips of his toes.

 _I’m ready too_.

He unzipped his pants, giving a sigh of relief, because being hard for so long was… difficult. It didn’t take much, a couple squirts of lube and a few, _very_ firm strokes was all he needed to be prepared.

“ _Now_ ,” Makoto panted.

Kisumi pressed the blunt tip of his cock, circling at the entrance. Haru grabbed Makoto’s waist by instinct, preventing him from slamming down on Kisumi in one go. As amazing as that would’ve felt, Kisumi wasn’t interested in making him bleed.

“Should we tie him?” Haru asked.

Makoto was leaning against Haru now, his legs splayed, but maybe this wasn’t the best position, as cute as he looked being held back.

“It’ll be easier if you go on your knees,” Kisumi said. He’ll miss looking at Makoto’s face from the front, but his glorious back was nothing to cough at either. Plus, he wanted Haru to get involved. The hair tugging gave him ideas.

Makoto turned over, only to have his arms bound again, this time with a blue scarf. Kisumi had them face each other so that his arms rested on Haru’s shoulders, wrists together, sitting up on his knees.

Being tall had its perks, because with their height difference, it was easy for Makoto to grind on Haru’s lap if he wished.

“Wait, Kisumi,” Haru started.

“Unzip your pants,” Kisumi said. “It’s rude to be overdressed.”

Makoto pressed himself on the bulge of Haru’s dark pants, silently agreeing.

“What are you up to?” How Haru could sound so skeptical while unbuckling his belt was beyond him.

“I thought maybe you’d like to go first. Unless you want me to the honors,” Kisumi said. There was a challenging note, because he liked pushing Haru as much as he liked making Makoto squirm.

Haru’s brows creased in confusion.

“I thought that was… the agreement. Between you two.” Saying it between gritted teeth, it was obvious as day how Haru felt about the matter. “And… we’ve… never done that.”

Makoto was blinking rapidly now, the clouds in his eyes disappearing as he sensed tension.

“Oh?” Kisumi thought they’d at least fucked once, with the looks they gave each other when they thought no one noticed. Interesting. “How about I demonstrate first then?”

His finger followed the line of Makoto’s spine, stealing a gasp. He continued stroking, to keep Makoto distracted, to chase away the clarity that threatened to override Kisumi’s hard work.

“And you can join in, once I’ve made him ready for you,” Kisumi cooed.

He guided his cock, pressing, _slowly_ , because he wanted Makoto to feel every splitting second of being entered for the first time, to memorize the sensation of being filled, of being _impaled_ by the length of fat cock. Kisumi’s ears were buzzing, but he couldn’t miss the sharp, quiet inhale from Haru, who gripped Makoto’s hips, fingers making petal-shaped bruises.

“Good. Keep a hold on him. We don’t want him to rush,” Kisumi said.

Makoto was the type to go all out as soon as the gun fired. Having Haru to hold him back would be enough, to give Kisumi the satisfaction, the joy of watching Makoto’s thighs flex and tremble as his mind went blank.

When he was halfway out again, he leaned forward, so both of them could hear:

“How much do you want to bet he can take us both?”

Before Haru could speak, he gave one, _hard_ thrust that surely drove past Makoto’s prostate, if his keening was any indication. Kisumi stopped, his vision sparkling, as he felt Makoto’s body adjusting, the inside of him hot and clenching and oh so perfect. Haru kissed him, rubbed Makoto’s legs to encourage him to relax, to accept it, because this was where he belonged, where they all belonged: together, fucking senselessly.

The stars disappeared, but Kisumi was still flying in the heavens, drunk on power, as he fucked Makoto at an impossible pace, steady slow and carefully deep, leaving Haru with the dirty job of restraining Makoto from ruining the rhythm.

They no longer had the gag though, and Makoto could protest another way:

“ _N-not enough_ ,” he rasped.

Push. Hold. Drag out, until barely the tip was touching the rim of Makoto’s entrance.

“Haru, touch me.”

Push in. Two seconds for every centimeter.

“Please. _I need to come._ ”

Kisumi and Haru exchanged glances.

Makoto twisted, using his upper strength to try and force Kisumi inside. Haru’s grip tightened.

“It hurts. I want to come so bad it _hurts,_ ” he whined.

Kisumi could see Haru’s resolve wavering.

“Haru _please_ , I can’t take it anymore, Kisumi isn’t, he’s not letting me come and I need to I want to I _have to please Haru!_ ”

Tears slipped down Makoto’s cheeks, and that was when Kisumi knew if he didn’t act, Haru would.

He rocked his hips, the pace faster, but still too slow for Makoto’s liking.

“You can’t come,” Kisumi said. “Not yet.”

His cock slipped out, lube and the remainder of Makoto’s own come dribbling down the inside of his thigh.

“Why don’t you try Haru’s cock instead?” he asked, his question honey-sweet. “If you’re… dissatisfied.”

Makoto froze, his face buried in the crook of Haru’s shoulder, pressed up against lifted up arms.

“B-but… we agreed…” he said weakly.

 _We agreed you’d fuck me_ , was what he meant. Kisumi wanted to shake his head, half exasperated, half fond. Who knew Makoto was so needy? Did he break open pandora’s box by suggesting this?

“I don’t care,” Haru said. “As long as Makoto feels good.”

No, these two were always hopeless. Kisumi was finding out just to what extent.

“But I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with me alone,” he said. He slid his cock back inside, able to reach to the hilt with ease. “Hmm, what ever shall we do?”

Haru reached down to spread Makoto’s legs further apart.

“Do you…?” he asked, tentative.

Makoto drew his face away from Haru’s shoulder. He nodded timidly.

“If… Haru is o-okay with it…” he murmured. A bright flush lighting his ears, Makoto ducked his head back down. “I-I didn’t know how to ask…”

Kisumi hummed, examining Haru’s cock. It was slender, about average size. They’d definitely fit, even if it was Makoto’s first time.

“Sounds fun.”

He began thrusting in earnest, creating a jarring rhythm that was the opposite of his previous pace. Now, instead of slow and deep, it was fast, shallow, staccato hits of pleasure that would have Makoto wanting _more, deeper_ , and with a wink, he brought Haru’s hand over, his beautiful, artistic fingers, and had him insert one, just as he was about to pull in again.

“O-oh,” Makoto gasped, as the sensation changed. Haru was a quick learner, and added another as soon as the Makoto’s entrance relaxed and stretched a little bit more.

“You’re quite greedy, aren’t you?” Kisumi said. “Admit it. Tell us what you want.”

Makoto whimpered, his hips swinging down, chest heaving as he relied on Haru to stay sitting upright, to not simply topple over from the pleasure melting in his legs, building in his groin, ready to overflow and explode.

“I-I want to be fucked,” Makoto panted.

Haru’s fingers retreated.

“Fucked how?” Kisumi asked, smiling.

“By… by both of you.”

Haru took that as his cue, and brought the tip next to Kisumi’s dick. He was about a third of the way in still when Haru plunged in, pushing and stretching and _taking_ , all the while Makoto writhed, unable to decide whether to escape from the pain or to encourage Haru to go further.

Kisumi grunted, because Makoto was tighter than before, sealing over his cock as though his body didn’t want to let him go. He waited until Haru was seated before trying out an experimental thrust.

“Hngh!” Makoto’s arms struggled against his bonds, head tossing back, eyes wide open as a faint, drool-lined smile glistened under the light. Only a hint of green around the edges remained of his irises, Makoto’s mind going _blank_ , his hole stuffed with cocks and his sanity lost to unbelievable pressure, electric and searing.

“Makoto.” Haru mouthed kisses along his neck, pushing back hair to reach a sensitive spot on his nape.

Kisumi folded himself along Makoto’s bare back, enjoying the little thrills of having his nipples rubbed under the shift of lecherous sinew. Each touch and stimulation, it accumulated into this mess, this _wreck_ of a person who used to be Makoto Tachibana, and he was happy to contribute to shattering him completely.

“A-ah _ah!_ ” Together, Kisumi and Haru pushed, their cocks rubbing a place inside Makoto that made him freeze, teeth clenched, his spine _seizing_ , “a-ah ah no no keep going _AHH!_ ”

Kisumi drove hard, pounding relentlessly, and Haru followed suit, the rim of Makoto’s cute little entrance drinking them in, taking all their messy fluids, but it was too much, it leaked over Makoto, coating him, and Kisumi thought, _how lovely would he look, splattered with come, dripping with that too_. Makoto would try his best to clean up afterwards, but he’d still feel it, that cold slide from his ass in the shower the next day, and he’d have to _remember_ , this was why.

Pleasure surged through his veins, giving him an incredible high, his head light as fluff, as he fucked Makoto, as Haru fucked him too, splitting him and ruining him and making him _perfect again._

Haru made a twisting motion, his hips hitting a tad differently, driving him and Kisumi against _there_ and

That’s when he felt it – that moment, when Makoto’s world went blind white, when pleasure paralyzed every nerve ending and had them screeching, had Makoto’s mouth open in a soundless scream, eyes dark with ecstasy, his exhausted legs finally giving out, the tied up scarf tearing as come sprayed over Haru’s chest, landed on his cheek, and it wouldn’t stop, Makoto’s cock twitching and twitching as Makoto rode the waves of climax.

Kisumi continued to fuck, wanting Makoto to feel the aftershocks, to extend this high for all of them. But judging from the stutter of Haru’s hips, it was too late. Seeing Makoto come was enough for Haru, and the wetness, the liquid hot sensation overflowing inside, was testament to that.

As he contemplated how much longer he could hold out – another minute, if he was lucky – Haru wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, licking Makoto’s come, savoring it with his eyes closed, and _shit_ that did it for him, had him coming too.

Orgasm for Kisumi was always rough, pulled out almost violently, leaving him partially shell-shocked. Unlike Makoto or Haru, he came the same way he did everything: vocally.

He sighed happily, climbing down from his high, his pelvis and lower back aching. He couldn’t imagine what state Makoto was in right now, and was thankful this was close to graduation, as there’d be no way any of them could compete for weeks after what they’d done.

It took moments, maybe minutes, he couldn’t tell, before he was coherent enough to process the world again, to hear sounds that weren’t his rushing pulse or muffled cries. His vision was normal and the ache in muscles was very real.

He glanced over to see Haru blinking slowly like a content cat, sprawled next to Makoto, curled up at his side. His forehead rested his friend’s, but otherwise, he didn’t touch, as though afraid to cause anymore over-stimulation.

“…how was it?” Kisumi asked, voice sleep-heavy. He decided to lie on the ground for a bit too, because why not? It was nice and cool there.

Makoto didn’t speak, unmoving.

A couple seconds passed, before he let out a sound, not words, but a sound, beautiful to Kisumi’s ears as any song or cry:

A laugh.

It was carefree, bright as stars, and had a touch of exhilaration.

To Kisumi, it was the best sound in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback appreciated.


End file.
